The American Enigma

The Chamber

"Mr. Stafford, I assume you know why you're here, correct?" Dumbledore asked gently. Grandfather was stoic, favoring to hold all the cards until he can maximize his gains.

"Yes sir. I'm here because I physically attacked Draco Malfoy for calling Hermione Granger a Mudblood."

"Can anyone confirm that?" Grandpa asked, making me sigh.

"The Gryffindor team will. The Slytherin team won't due to Lucius Malfoy purchasing them all Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones." He nodded, before turning towards Dumbledore.

"My position is not capable of dealing with something like this, but if it's true, that gives me all the more reason to report just how bad things are."

"Yes. It is truly a dire strait to be in. Perhaps, if I were to have something in writing. Something unbreakable." I raised an eyebrow, until grandpa took pity.

"I apologize, Y/N. You are free to go. However, I must impart upon you just how vital it is that you do not do something like this again. For if you do, you put much more than just your schooling in jeopardy."

I decided to head towards Hagrid's hut, where I heard something about special equipment or something like that.

"Who was Ron tryna ter curse?" Hagrid asked.

"Malfoy Malfoy called Hermione something - it must've been really bad," Harry said

"It was bad," said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty. "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid -"

Ron dived out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

"He. Did. Naught." Hagrid gaped in astonishment, making me clear my throat.

"He did. Suffered a broken nose for it. Should've been more." I seethed in response before being grabbed in a vice like grip from my best friend.

"Y/N! How much trouble are you in!?" She asked, but I let out a slow sigh.

"Not too sure. I'll be given an answer after the Quidditch teams are questioned. But that doesn't matter. How are you?"

"What does it mean?" Harry asked suddenly, reminding me that he clearly wouldn't know about it.

"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born - you know non-magic parents." I stated, as Ron vomited up some slugs. "There are some wizards - like the Malfoys - who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." Harry's eyes went wide, but I continued. "In the eyes of Volde-bitch's followers, they're filth." Hermione clung to me harder, and I let out a soft sigh.

"Anyway, look at Neville Longbottom - he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up." Ron said, heaving.

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta. I couldn't help but agree, since she could do everything.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," Ron continued, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out." He retched and ducked out of sight again.

"I don' blame ya fer tryin ter curse 'im, Ron. But as it stands, I wouldn' be shocked ter hear bout Lucius comin' up ter tha school."

"Let him." I surprised everyone with my comment. "If he tries anything, the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you three, and Pensieve testimony will be more than enough to not only force him to run away with his tail tucked between his legs, but also potentially sack him from the Board of Governors and the Ministry if we're lucky." They smiled at that, until Hagrid decided to bring something up.